Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from St Lucia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kool Moe Dee,
T. Rex,
The Last Poets,
The Flesh Eaters,
Animal Collective,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Godley & Creme,
The Fire Engines,
CMW,
Dennis Brown,
Pharoah Sanders,
AZ,
Aural Exciters,
Flash Fearless,
Harry Pussy,
Motorama,
Khruangbin,
Cybotron,
Rufus Thomas,
Steve Hackett,
Suicide,
Ten City,
Eurythmics,
John Holt,
Delta 5,
Television,
Arthur Verocai,
The Fortunes,
Gang Starr,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Toni Rubio,
The Modern Lovers,
Ice-T,
Todd Terry,
John Lydon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tom Boy,
Moss Icon,
Yaz,
Bobby Byrd,
Marine Girls,
Liliput,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ultra Naté,
L. Decosne,
Angry Samoans,
Barrington Levy,
The Sonics,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sight & Sound,
Harmonia,
the Soft Cell,
The Cowsills,
The Electric Prunes,
Brick,
The Index,
X-101,
Hasil Adkins,
Outsiders,
Livin' Joy,
Black Sheep,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.